


You Are the Moon

by omelet



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omelet/pseuds/omelet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills makes him remember that he doesn't get what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Writing practice for Derek. Vague season 3 spoilers, kinda. Unbeta'd.
> 
> Title taken from "You Are the Moon" by The Hush Sound.

"It's easy to cry when you realize everyone you love will reject you or die."

\- _Fight Club_

-

Kate was beautiful.

Derek loved to run his fingers through her hair, loved to trace the curve of her cheek. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he sees her, her smooth skin, her eyes. Sometimes he can hear her, laughing, whispering in his ear. Sometimes he can feel her too, her lips against his neck, her hands everywhere.

When he thinks of her, he doesn't think of his family burning alive because of her, doesn't think of her hatred. Before he remembers all that she had done, he thinks of her smile, her voice, the feeling of her pressed against his skin, and how much he loved her.

That's what he hates most about himself.

-

After Kate, he doesn't think of love, doesn't think of intimacy. Because when he thinks of those things, he thinks of her and it makes him sick. After Kate, he is bitter and angry and heartbroken for all the wrong reasons and for a long time, he couldn't touch anyone without thinking of her scent chased by the smell of burnt flesh.

So he thinks of revenge, thinks of anger. He still thinks of her, but at least he thinks of her, dead.

-

Beacon Hills makes him remember.

He was born shackled to the moon. He was born into this family, who would always be his family, even when they burned up into ash, even when they killed each other, even when they died by his hand.

He chose his betas, chose Scott. Chose Kate. They did not choose him.

He remembers that he doesn't get what he wants. 

\--

He thinks he's changing. He hangs around these kids so much, it's hard not to. Even though everything's going to shit, even though he doesn't have Laura to hold him together anymore, he's alive and he thinks that when all this passes, in the end, maybe he'll be okay.

But he thinks that he will always carry Kate with him too, believes it so he will no longer end up retching when he thinks of how he convinced Erica to take the bite, how he thought of Kate, her lithe hands, her sharp smile. 

Intimacy is a muddled concept now that he has a pack, now that he has to be the steadying hand on these kids' shoulders, and it's being replaced with something he doesn't know how to describe, no longer something Kate ruined, but still just as fearsome. So when Erica kisses him, it catches him off guard but he throws her off, eventually. She's pretty in the ways he used to like, but she sometimes moves the way Kate used to and maybe that's why he doesn't want her. 

Sometimes he looks at other women. He even thinks of Boyd, thinks of Isaac, even Scott. But he doesn't want them either. He had stopped trusting beauty a long time ago. When he looks at them, they are all too broken or not broken enough. They hold onto things he thinks are petty, things he thinks are too heavy, things that he will never understand.

So maybe Kate didn't ruin sex for him. Just ruined everyone else for him. Ruined him for everyone else.

-

He had been honing his body for years, but he still finds himself at her mercy, powerless.

She tortures him with a smile on her face, reminisces on their time together with cruel pleasure. But there is nothing else for her to ruin. He is already beyond broken.

At least, that's what he thought. She touches him and he does not think of her soft curves in his hands. He thinks of anger, of disgust, of fire and his family. 

It reassures him.

Later, he thinks of intimacy. He thinks of the distinct scent of panic. Then he thinks of the cloying scent of chlorine and stops.

-

Selina comes back to Beacon Hills, shortly before the Alpha pack arrives. She learns about werewolves, realizes why he missed class on full moons in high school. Despite it, she stays, helps them, bleeds for them. With Scott's pack still wary of him and his own pack fractured, he can't help but feel grounded by her presence. She is familiar, someone who has never betrayed his trust. Never had the chance.

Later, her eyes bright in the darkness, she chooses him, chose him a long time ago.

He didn't think of her that way before but he thinks of her now. She is a part of his past, a part that reminds him of better days and a part that makes him think of Kate, but she is part of his past that can be changed, wiped clean and rewritten. 

So when she leans in, he kisses her. It feels like being pulled from the brink of death.

-

"So," Stiles says abruptly as they sit together in his Jeep, "you and Selina?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Oh, c'mon, the irony of you dating someone named Selina seriously cannot be lost to even you." Derek responds with nothing, stares resolutely forward. Now that he's with Selina, he gets sly looks from his own pack, got an incredulous comment from Scott, warnings from Argent. Everyone seems to want to get a dig in.

Stiles' fingers tap erratically against the steering wheel, his leg bouncing up and down. He chews on his fingertip.

"I just wanted to say congrats," he says quietly after he shifts around about ten more times. "You uh," he hears Stiles anxiously tap his feet, "deserve someone, y'know? Who makes you happy."

He looks at Stiles, whose gaze slides over to him, bashful. "Thanks," he says with barely concealed surprise, at Stiles and himself.

Stiles relaxes, his lips quirking. "Don't mention it."

-

Stiles never chose him, but he never chose Stiles either.

He thinks of choosing him sometimes. He thinks of trusting Stiles, thinks of letting him in, because he has been forced to trust him one too many times but Stiles has never let him down.

"What's on your mind?"

He looks at Selina, looks away. "Nothing."

She hums and leans over to kiss him. To make him forget, he supposes.

Her hands slide across his jaw and he does not think of Kate. He thinks of a different set of hands, bigger and rougher, touching him in the clinic, in the pool, at the police station. Saving him.

-

The boy doesn't look at him, doesn't even tell him his name. Just glares defiantly at the Alpha before him.

"Make the choice, Hale. Only one of you are going to walk out of here and you get the honor of choosing."

Derek stares hard at the boy strung up beside him, struggling to remember who he is because he has to be _something_ to him. He doesn't smell like pack, he's not even a werewolf; in fact, he smells more like a hunter, but something tells him _protect him_.

He jerks his head at the boy. "Take him," he finally says.

The Alpha's smile falters but recovers quickly. "Oh, that's unexpected."

The boy's eyes, wide with shock, snap to his. One of the Alphas steps forward to unchain him, holding him by the arms as the boy tries to fight him off, shouting, "No, no no no, don't -"

"While killing you wasn't the ideal plan," the Alpha tells Derek with false regret, "parading your head around town could just as well convince Scott to join us." He picks up a knife, examining it thoughtfully. "Had I known that you had taken a liking to this human, I would have chosen someone like that huntress instead."

"Stop! Goddammit, Derek, take it back, you can't do this," the boy's voice cracks, and he doesn't know why but the boy is frantic, angry, scared, "you have a pack that needs you, okay? You can't let them be controlled by this psycho -"

"It appears that the body just doesn't forget some things, hm?" The Alpha ponders aloud, amused, running the blade lightly across Derek's neck before pushing up his chin with the tip. "What a romantic notion."

Derek doesn't speak. He just focuses on the boy, listens to his harsh breathing, listens to the faint whining in the back of his throat. Listens to him shout his name as he is dragged away, his voice echoing in his ears even as he screams, the knife cutting deeper and deeper into his skin.

-

He's rescued before the Alpha can slit his throat for the third time. He is alive. Barely conscious, healing painfully, but alive.

Everything is hazy and too loud. Someone, someone who smells like pack, is carrying him. He feels someone's hand, someone who feels familiar, in his hair and sees flashes of faces, tired but relieved faces, but one stands out.

The boy, unharmed like the Alpha promised. His lips are set in a thin line, like he's angry, but he looks haunted, his brown eyes wide and dull.

He doesn't understand. His vision swims, but he can still see the drying streaks of tears around the corners of the boy's eyes.

-

Apparently, all it took for all of them to start working together was for him to get tortured. But the Alpha pack has been driven out and his memories are slowly returning, so he isn't going to complain.

Things between him and Scott aren't perfect, but they're on better terms now. Scott visits him during his recovery, with, to his surprise, Stiles, who only stands to the side while he and Scott talk.

"No more secrets," Scott says. "Can we just start with that?"

Derek nods tightly. "Yeah."

Scott sighs before nodding and turning to leave. But Stiles lingers, fidgeting where he stands, biting his lip. He raises his head, looks him in the eye.

Derek watches Stiles' gaze fall on the red jagged line along his neck. Still healing. He flicks up the collar of his jacket.

"Why did you choose me?" Stiles finally says softly, his words shaky. "You didn't know who I was and I had wolfsbane and mountain ash on me, so they expected you to let me die. But why didn't you?"

He thinks that Stiles knows why, but wants to hear him say it. _You're important to me. I trust you. Because of you, I can kiss Selina and not think of Kate._

But he remembers, _there's this girl at school_ , Stiles smiling in the darkness as he fills up their silences, and instead, he says, "I don't know."

Stiles looks disappointed, looks like he wants to call bullshit, but he drops it, sharply turning away and walking to his car, with Scott shooting curious glances at him.

He can't say it. He's a mess and he can't ask Stiles to be the one to hold him together.

-

Sometimes Stiles looks at him the same way Kate did, but unlike her, he doesn't smile when Derek catches him. He turns away, rubs his neck self-consciously, frowning.

Derek doesn't know what to do with it.

-

"I never seem to have the right timing," Selina sighs one night as they lie in bed.

His hand twitches against her bare hip. "What do you mean?"

"It will never be just you and me," she says after a long silence, her voice tinged with resignation. She turns to look at him, her lips fixed in a bittersweet smile. "I can tell, you know, when your mind drifts. In high school, you used to get this look when you thought about that lifeguard, Kate." 

His heart thuds. 

"It's a little different now, but I can still tell. But this time," she shakes her head, "I don't know who it is. I'm not even sure you know who it is. But even though I have you here, you're already someone else's."

He thinks he's supposed to stop her, to tell her that she's wrong, but he doesn't. "I'm sorry," he says instead.

"Don't be," she replies, sitting up and flashing him a grin. "Didn't think we were ever gonna be a forever kind of love anyway."

He lets her pick up her clothes and leave.

-

She's still his friend, still helps the pack when they need her, but when he looks at her, he doesn't miss her they way he's supposed to.

Stiles pats him on the shoulder in passing. Sympathy, probably, but he doesn't need it.

It calms him, nonetheless. That worries him.

\--

Things are always changing around them. His betas have gone and returned, allegiances have switched back and forth, and yet they still find themselves standing on the same side.

They are different now, chasing after different things. Derek is more careful, less prone to anger, and Stiles has gotten a little wiser, knows when he has to restrain himself, but they are tired too. Tired of all this change and having little to hold onto.

Derek has learned that Stiles is cracked the way he is broken. He has his own secrets but he keeps them not because he's afraid someone will see them but because he's afraid of letting them go. He holds onto them like reminders, like guilt.

He doesn't fight for abstracts. He wants to live, wants them all to live. He knows how to adapt, knows what's needed. That makes it safe. That makes it easier.

So on an ordinary day, after he and Scott have done their weekly argument, as ordinary as they can get, and Stiles hangs back to tell him why he should listen to Scott before turning to leave, he catches Stiles' wrist and kisses him. His lips are petal soft and taste faintly of blood, like he's been picking the skin off of them.

"Why did you do that?" Stiles asks when they part, his amber eyes dark, searching. 

"I don't know."

He pulls away. "Try again."

Derek sighs. "I wanted to."

He doesn't know what Stiles will do because he has learned to stop trying to figure him out. Stiles bites his lip like he wants to say something, but nods instead, pulling him back in close. "Okay," he whispers against his lips.

-

They still argue, disagreements over pack issues and plans in general and Scott often being the points of contention between them. The only difference now is that sometimes they kiss and talk more when they aren't fighting and have the time. So fights really just mean that things go back to normal.

It's not like it was with Selina. Neither of them draw attention to it if they can help it and no one speaks up if they notice, at least, not with everyone around. Sometimes, when everything goes to shit but no one dies, Stiles kisses him in front of the pack and sometimes his hands linger on Stiles for a while after he checks him over for injuries and then they get an embarrassed cough and a _seriously guys?_ but the world does not end.

He waits for Stiles to say _I don't want you_ , but it never comes. Stiles is not naive, not like he was, because he knows loss and betrayal and pain more intimately than he did at his age, but Derek thinks of numbers, thinks of Kate and he stays up nights, convincing himself that he has to give Stiles an out.

"If you want to see other people, you can," Derek tells him evenly as he idly flips through a book, the page crinkling loudly.

"Oh." Stiles' chair creaks. "Do you want to see other people?" He sounds uneasy.

"No." Because there's no point in lying.

"Oh," he says again. Stiles' heart slows with relief, jump-starting his own. "Then why would I want to?"

-

Derek wishes he could always choose Stiles. Tries to. Sometimes, he wonders if Stiles feels the same toward him.

"I wish I could be everything you think I am," Stiles says as he sits at Derek's bedside, watching helplessly as Derek shivers and groans, fever-hot as his body pushes out the poison. Poison that was meant for Stiles. Not wolfsbane, but still unpleasant.

You already are, he wants to say. "I wish I could be enough for you," Derek says instead, half-delirious with pain.

In his daze, he feels a hand wrap around his, smells salt as drops slide down his fingers.

"You are," he hears Stiles whisper.

He wishes choosing wasn't such a hard thing to do.

-

Days after his 18th birthday, Stiles shows up at his house.

"I want you," he says roughly, boldly as soon as Derek opens the door.

"Nice to see you too," he says, amused. "Water or coffee?"

Stiles scrunches his face at him, pushes past him, a heady wave of arousal hitting him, and clambers to his bedroom, already shedding his clothes halfway up the stairs. And well, since he's already there.

"I knew you couldn't resist my manly wiles and finally legal body," Stiles declares, halfway out of his pants by the time Derek gets to his room.

Derek shrugs, pushing Stiles back onto the bed. "Your foreplay could use a bit of work but I admire your enthusiasm," he murmurs before covering Stiles' mouth with his own.

Stiles' body is lanky, slightly defined, and spattered with moles. His pale skin is unbelievably sensitive, flushes at the barest touch. He moans and sighs shakily, tries hard to wedge a witty retort in between. He tires easily and comes fast. He is unsure of what sounds he's allowed to make, where he's supposed to put his hands.

It's clumsy and awkward and Derek wonders if the laughter that constantly bubbles out of Stiles and the profuse apologies that follow are going to be a regular thing. But he does not lead him, just touches him with wandering hands, a wandering tongue, and swallows every word. He thinks that Stiles is everything Kate wasn't, and maybe that's why he can kiss him and think _yes_.

-

The morning is eventful. He wakes up with Stiles' hair tickling his nose. Snorting lightly, he shifts around, only a little, because Stiles has a leg hooked around his knee.

Soon after, Stiles wakes up too, yawns right in his face, and grins at him before looking at the time and yelping, saying that he's late for class. He rolls off the bed with a thump and scrambles to gather up his clothes. Derek stretches, watches Stiles put his shirt on backwards.

He wants to ask him to stay, wants to tell him to ditch class, just for today, but instead, he hands Stiles one of his stray socks and pulls him in for a messy kiss.

"Don't speed," he says wryly before rolling away to fall back asleep.

"You're the worst," he hears Stiles grumble before he feels a peck on the cheek.

It's almost hilarious, the looks they exchange when Stiles pulls away, one of surprise and one of complete mortification. To stop from smiling, Derek kisses Stiles' burning cheek and smacks his ass to smooth things over.

Before he can stop himself, he murmurs a hopeful "see you later" and Stiles pauses, his heartbeat quickening as he flushes lightly, before nodding, shutting the door softly when he leaves.

Things do not fall apart. He does not fall back asleep.

-

Stiles doesn't draw him away from Kate. He replaces her. Erases the traces of her with his tentative touch. Makes him forget the lies she used to whisper in his ear, saying things like _so how creeped out would you be if I told you that I wrote a sonnet about your eyes for my Lit class_. He snores, gets crumbs on the bed, nudges his head under his chin when he settles in to sleep, making new the place where Kate used to be.

When Derek thinks of intimacy, he thinks of Stiles. When he thinks of love, he's amazed he even thinks of love.

-

He quietly traces the familiar pattern of moles along Stiles' neck. Shadows move slowly and smoothly like water across his cheek with every sleepy blink of his eye. His thumb skirts across an old scar, then another. Stiles sighs, wrapping his hand around his.

"What are you thinking about?" Stiles asks, his voice partially muffled by his pillow.

_Sometimes I don't understand why you're still here._ "Nothing."

Stiles snorts. "It's never nothing." But he doesn't say anything else, doesn't kiss him. Just holds his hand.

-

Scott is waiting for him at his house a few weeks after Stiles started coming over regularly.

"Is this some twisted way to get me to join your pack?" Scott asks, carefully controlled. He still gets emotional, but he's better at hiding it now, better at reigning himself in. "You can't get to me, so you go after Stiles?"

Derek scoffs as he locks his car, moving past Scott toward his house. "You must have a very high opinion of yourself to think that I would fuck someone just to win you over. Besides, I thought I told you I was done with that."

Scott works his jaw, breathing slowly. "Do you love him?" 

Derek stops, his hand on the door.

He hears Scott let out a breath, maybe. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"That's all I needed," Scott says. Derek looks at him, sees a hint of a smile on his face.

-

There are times when they don't speak for days, when they hurt each other and regret it later, or not. But it doesn't last for a year or a month. It just lasts.

He used to think about fate, when he was with Kate. Used to think about soul mates and _meant to be_ , but not anymore. There is nothing good about fate, nothing to be grateful for about an unstoppable force that dictates who you will be and who you will lose and who you will love.

They choose, despite the pain, despite the odds. So maybe he was wrong. Maybe they did choose each other after all, and maybe choosing doesn't mean that he will lose everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been done far better by authors much more talented than me, but I had a dream (perhaps more appropriately, a nightmare) about Kate and Derek and was compelled to try to do a character study, spanning Derek's feelings toward Kate, feelings toward sex and relationships, and how he would be attracted to Stiles. 
> 
> So what I mean to say is that actually I don't know what this is. It's vague and ~symbolic~ and there are themes or something. The pace is weird. 
> 
> ...I'll go back to writing about puppies and happiness now
> 
> But thank you for reading. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


End file.
